


a good day to die

by the_last_dillards



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bad Poetry, Episode: s02e06 Melora, Gen, Non-sexual vore, POV Second Person, Silly, Triple Drabble, i guess lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_last_dillards/pseuds/the_last_dillards
Summary: You are a piece of racht and Julian Bashir eats you.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 13





	a good day to die

**Author's Note:**

> This is only poetry in the loosest sense of the word. It started to rhyme on its own so I went with the flow and now it's maybe technically a poem. Cool.
> 
> Based on [this moment immortalized in GIF form](https://the-last-dillards.tumblr.com/post/639255497705455616/julian-finishing-off-his-delicious-plate-of) from the episode Melora.

You are a piece of racht. That means you are a worm! 

Nothing special. Not to most.

Not a delicacy like gagh. Nor a friend like a symbiont inside their host.

You’re told you look like a big earthworm. Wiggly and wet. Squirmy and slimy.

Tonight, you are someone’s dinner. Blimey!

Many people like to eat you. 

Klingons mostly, but sometimes other folks too.

You’re given a bath in seasoning and spices and mixed around. 

You’re not cooked before you're dumped onto a plate in a mound.

Here, you’re safe among your family and friends. Or so you thought.

One by one they disappear. In their absence, you can only writhe to show you're fraught.

Above you, gaping maws open and shut to spell your doom.

Eaten by lovers, there’ll soon be nothing left of you to exhume!

Then comes the moment you find yourself the sole survivor.

There’s no use anymore in trying be a contriver.

For your destiny soon meets you as well.

Up and up, you go. The suspense is hell.

The big hand has grabbed you and you dangle in its grasp.

Suspended above that snapping trap, you’re unclasp.

Your new home is warm and wet. 

Just when you think you could get used to this, you’re met...

...with pursing lips and suction, you’ve been slurped!

Pulling you in, you find your comfort has been usurped.

The jaws around you close and gnash.

They pulverize your body into a soft mash.

Is it fun? No, the thing is not!

But one must consider, what other deaths fate could have wrought.

Slow misery in the beast’s belly would’ve hurt.

So, really, it’s better that the end was curt.

Your last thought as that mouth did munch...

...was the bad manners of talking while turning you to lunch!

**Author's Note:**

> I slurp up kudos and comments like Julian Bashir slurps up worms.


End file.
